


The Inquisition Cycle

by fictitiousregrets



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, M/M, or if there are not more right now there will be, there are more characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3411227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictitiousregrets/pseuds/fictitiousregrets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pretty pure crossover of Dragon Age: Inquisition and The Raven Cycle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1, Scene 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! As the summary says, this is probably what happens when you drop a whole bunch of raven babies into Thedas. Mostly, one of my friends suggested this and all I could think was Gansey and his quest. Things spiraled out of control from there. Plot divergences from Inquisition will be occurring frequently once we get a lot further in, but for now, please enjoy slightly OOC raven darlings, unbetaed chapters, and Gansey trying to figure out why the heck his left hand is glowing.
> 
> Standard warnings for graphic violence, cursing, blasphemy (the Andrastian kind), and a disappointing lack of terrible EDM music.

The last thing Gansey remembered, he was reaching out for a woman, desperate and trying to get away from the buzzing surrounding him. Maker. Hornets everywhere, oh, _Maker_. He had grasped the woman's hand and then blinding light engulfed him.

           "Well, well. What do we have here?"

           He opened his eyes to the view of a smirking woman, dark-skinned and curvy with a face that made you want to shrink back. Gansey did not shrink back, as much as he wanted to recoil at her gaze. He was on his knees, shackles round his wrists. A light shone down upon him, bathing the smirker in graceful highlights and painting him in harshness.

           "Tell us what you know."

           "I don't know what you're talking about," Gansey said evenly, keeping his cool though on the inside, part of him was confused and freaking out.

           "The Conclave, pretty boy. You don't remember what happened?"

           "I remember running. And there was... a woman."

           "A woman?" The smirker lost her trademark and raised an eyebrow, cocking a hip casually as she thought this over.

           Gansey nodded in affirmation. "I... I think I remember reaching out to her, and... that's all. I don’t know what happened at the Conclave."

           "Oh, really? Then explain _this_." Smirker Lady grabbed his wrist and in the light that suddenly spilled over more of her, she became a lioness. He felt a little chill down his spine. And then the chill didn't matter anymore—there was searing pain in his left palm. Gansey shouted with its intensity, clutching his left hand with the right as if it would help.

           "Calla," another female voice, warning in its tone, came from the shadows. The speaker stepped forward and Gansey squinted through the pain and harsh light to bring her into focus. “Stop. We need him.”

           “Him? Pretty boy?” Smirker Lady, now identified as Calla, snorted, showing what she thought of that. When the other woman didn’t respond, Calla moved away from Gansey and his strange mark.

           “You know what happened at the Conclave, pretty boy? Everyone’s dead. Everyone except for _you_.”

           Gansey had been about to protest that “pretty boy” was not his name when Calla’s words finally sunk in. “Dead? _Everyone_?”

           “That’s what I said.”

           His eyes dropped to stare at the ground. Everyone. All of those people. They had lives and families and people who loved them and would miss them. And they were gone.

           “ _Including_ ,” Calla continued, “the Divine.” Gansey’s head snapped up, his eyes anguished. The other woman studied him for a few moments, but Calla was the first to speak—the one conducting this interrogation. “What business did you have with the Divine?”

           He looked away, unable to meet her eyes. The other woman shook her head at Calla. “It’s no use, Calla. I think right now you have to…”

           Calla nodded grimly and pressed her thumb against the mark on Gansey’s palm, and he began to scream as the pain spiked again. A thousand hornets buzzed in his ears and he could feel the tears dripping down his cheeks, and then it was over just as suddenly as it had begun. He rocked back on the balls of his feet, trying desperately to get away from the source of the pain. The other woman stepped forward, gently pushing Calla aside, and pressed her thumb to his forehead.

           The pain washed away in waves, leaving only the horrible memory of buzzing, golden bodies, and a voice in his ear saying something about an empty throne.

           “What _are_ you?” Calla asked. She didn’t ask so much as she demanded.

           He looked up at her and then at the other woman and said, “My name is Richard Campbell Gansey the third and—”

           “That is the most stupid name I have ever heard.”

           The other woman whirled around to find a much younger girl leaning against the doorframe of the prison. “Blue,” she said. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

           Blue? And she thought she could lecture _him_ on stupid names? Blue twirled a knife between her fingers. “And he wasn’t supposed to be at the Conclave. Guess we’ve both got a habit of going places we shouldn’t.”

           “You can just call me Gansey,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t broken down crying a few moments ago, as if he hadn’t just been devastated. Sometimes he was too good at hiding his emotions.

           Calla didn’t look amused. “Do you want to hear what I found or not, Maura?”

           The other woman—Maura—just nodded, her eyes lingering on Blue. They looked so similar. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that they were related. Although, Gansey was a little confused as to what Calla had done to him. Perhaps she was a spirit mage? He couldn’t say for certain.

           Calla and Maura turned away from him in quiet conference, soft murmurs not quite reaching his assaulted ears. Blue remained at her post by the doorframe, her eyes piercing him, unwilling or unable to accept him. This was a girl who despised him, he realized, and he didn’t even know why.

           Gansey mused on his fate while the women spoke, but didn’t get very far before Calla whirled and said, “Boy.”

           “Will you tell me what’s going on now?” Gansey asked, his voice even and quiet. He didn’t think it would do much for him to get emotional _now_.

           “… It’d be easier if we showed you,” Calla said roughly.

           Blue’s lips curled into a slow smile, one wrought with slyness. “I’ll take him.”

           Maura shot a sharp look at her. “Blue, no.”

           “Relax, mom. It’s only to look.” She and Maura looked at each other for a few moments, something inscrutable and beautifully coded passing between them, something only a very close mother and daughter could achieve. Gansey had known they were related somehow, he reflected.

           “Only to look,” Maura said finally, with a warning tone in her voice. “And then you come back in five minutes, do you hear me, Blue Sargent?”

           So now he had a first and last name. Blue nodded at her mother, sheathing her weapon. “We’ll be right back, mom. It’ll be fine.”

           Something told Gansey that this was not going to be fine.


	2. Act 1, Scene 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue takes Gansey to see that giant tear in the sky. It goes about as well as it should, Murphy's Law and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. I just posted this fic. But in my defense, this chapter is infinitely more fun.
> 
> Standard warnings for dirty mouths, graphic violence (this chapter more than the previous), lots of shouting, and yet again a disappointing lack of EDM music.

“See that?” Blue Sargent said casually, pointing at the sky. There was a giant green hole in it. _Andraste’s knickers_.

           “I don’t see how I couldn’t,” Gansey replied, unable to take his eyes off of it.

           She turned to look at him. “That’s what happened at the Conclave. There was a huge explosion, and then—” Blue pointed to the hole. “They call it the Breach.”

           “Who’s ‘they’?”

           Blue gave him a _look_. “The people who think we’re all going to die, of course.”

           He didn’t quite know what to say to that, so Gansey fell silent and simply looked right back at Blue.

           “Here’s the deal, posh boy: see that mark on your hand? It’s made of the same stuff that that thing,” here she pointed to the Breach, “is made of. We don’t know what or how or why, but we know that it exists. Demons are falling out of the sky. The world is dying.”

           “I understand.”

           She looked surprised. “So… you’ll help us, then?”

           Gansey met her eyes, serious as the plague. “I’ll do whatever I can. Whatever it takes.”

           Blue looked almost relieved. “Well. Good.” She cut his ties with her dagger and looked over his shoulder at the town behind them, as if she were watching for Maura and Calla. “Come on, then.”

           It was something of a trek uphill from the small prison. Snow littered the ground and yet things were burning—barricades made of wood, a rag doll on the side of the road, brush that had fallen off a tree. Gansey was somewhat surprised to find that he was much taller than Blue—she’d seemed so much more imposing when he was on his knees in the prison.

           They walked in silence, Gansey meditative and Blue anxious. She was obviously agitated because of the Breach, and had Gansey not had training for these kinds of crisis management situations, he would have been reacting the same way. Not that a hole in the sky was your normal kind of crisis management, but it was something pretty similar. Maybe.

           Eventually, they made their way to a set of gates, which opened when Blue knocked. People were milling about on a bridge that peered through the open gates, minding their own business. Gansey was a little surprised to see something so normal when the Breach was so green and glowy up above them.

           “The path should be just up ahead—” Blue began as they made their way across the bridge, but was never quite able to finish her sentence, because the Breach suddenly erupted and smashed the bridge, causing utter chaos and both of them to fall down onto the iced-over river. It also happened to spit out a pair of shrieks.

           Not _sound_ shrieks. These were demons.

           And he wasn’t even armed. _Oh, Maker_.

           “Get behind me!” Blue shouted at him, unsheathing her daggers. It seemed impossible that this tiny girl could take on two Fade demons at once. She was just—so small. Her daggers were small. The shrieks were so big. He couldn’t really get past this size comparison thing.

           Of course, that didn’t end up mattering much when another one began to materialize from the ground next to him. Gansey thumbed his lip, glancing around, and found a sword and shield laying in the rubble. _Convenient_.

           He battled the creature as best he could, being somewhat out of practice with a sword and shield. He almost didn’t notice when Blue crept up behind the thing and eviscerated it, causing it to disintegrate. She gave a distasteful look at the remains of the thing and then noticed he had picked up a weapon.

           “Drop it,” she demanded.

           This was a young woman who had taken on two Fade demons at once, lived, and then taken down a third to save his ass. He dropped the sword and shield.

           “No, you know what? Never mind. Pick it up. It’s fine, you agreed to help—I should remember that. Besides, I can’t be saving you all the time.” Blue shook her head. Gansey had the strangest feeling that she was doing this on purpose. Just so he could go through the motions.

           He shrugged and picked his weapons up again, and then they were off. There were a few instances of demonic presences, but Blue and Gansey dispatched them well enough. They did have a few scratches on them by the end of the journey—which was, to say, that the end of the journey was not quite what they had expected.

           “Adam, your _fucking left_!” shouted a young man with a shaved head in a strange set of mage robes, whirling his staff in sharp, precise movements that felt as violent as his words. “Andraste’s _tits_!”

           While Blue went to go help the young man with his demons, Gansey charged in to cover this Adam’s left, as he had left it wide open—the young man had been right.

           “I have it under control!” Adam yelled back as he slammed his own staff into the ground, causing it to rumble disconcertingly. It was as if he had woken the bloody earth itself with that thing. “How about you watch your right?”

           The young man did not reply—he electrocuted a set of demons that had both tried to pounce on him at the same time. Blue was a flurry around the demons, gracefully slashing and stabbing like she was born to this life—and she very well may have been. She and her mage partner in this violent dance took their opponents down quickly and relatively cleanly. Adam’s was a bit messier, because it seemed that he was inclined towards spells with power and control, not like the other mage’s quick, clean spells. Not that Gansey knew much about magic, just the basics. It was a fascinating topic, and frankly, he wasn’t sure why more people didn’t study it.

           “Maker damn Andraste fuck,” the as-of-yet unnamed young man spat when the fighting was over.

           “You can say that again,” Adam said off-handedly.

           Blue gave both young men the same look she had given Gansey earlier. Then she turned to Gansey and said, as if she was very tired, “Richard Campbell Gansey the third—”

           “—just Gansey, please—”

           “—this is Ronan Lynch,” she gestured to the young man with the strange mage robes and shaved head, “and Adam Parrish.”

         Adam inclined his head to indicate that he was indeed the aforementioned Parrish.

           "And if we're all introduced, I suggest we get a move on," Blue said calmly. "They need us at the blast site. Keep your weapons out. Keep moving." She vaulted over an obstacle leading down to the iced-over river that they had fallen down to earlier, and glanced back at Gansey, who was looking at the road up ahead. "It's blocked, posh boy. We're taking a detour."

           "If you say so," was Gansey's only reply.

 

* * *

 

They continued on toward their destination, pausing to eradicate demons on their way. It felt like there was no use in it—the Breach just kept hawking them out. But it kept them warm and it kept Gansey's mind clear and focused on the task at hand.

           "So, SRF. You gonna thank me?"

           The sudden speech shocked Gansey from his musings, and he paused to look back at where the voice came from. Ronan was looking at him with that sharp gaze. He would have expected no less of an expression from a king or some distant Tevinter magister.

           "Thank you. What am I thanking you for?"

           Blue cut in lazily, "He kept your mark from killing you while you were checked out."

           Gansey nodded and then a strange smile played on his lips. "I don't know if I want to ask about SRF."

           "You don't."

           Adam had been strangely silent throughout this whole exchange. He remained so, looking over his shoulder at the Breach every now and again. Gansey didn't quite know what to make of him, not yet.

           They trekked up a flight of stairs and some ladders, and finally came to a point where they could hear the fighting. Blue pointed to the rabble and looked at Gansey. "Those are the people who need you. Don't disappoint them."

           He couldn't. There was no way he could disappoint them, and Gansey knew he would be whatever they needed him to be. He reached out to the spirit of the Divine for inspiration, hoping he could find it in him to steel himself for whatever came next.

           A booming voice rang through the place where the Divine and countless others had perished. It rambled on about ridiculous things like divine right and being the sole ruler and something about a Greywaren, which caused Ronan to visibly react—it was something minuscule, and if Gansey hadn't been looking at that precise moment, he would have missed it.

           He would have to make a mental note to ask about it later.

           For now, his attentions were focused on the matter at hand. He needed to get down to the heart of the conflict. He needed to try to close that opening. Not the giant one—he had no idea how he would tackle that one—but a smaller version of the Breach that was wreaking havoc with a pride demon at its center.

           "Shit," swore Ronan from behind Gansey. He decided that he liked Ronan. They continued as Gansey tried to find a way down to the ground floor, and passed by some clumps of red glowing rock.

           "Red lyrium," Adam said quietly. It was the first thing out of his mouth in a while. "Terrible stuff. We got reports of people going mad because of it in Kirkwall."

           Gansey nodded, but Ronan was the one to make the sarcastic remark that naturally followed: "I feel so safe walking near it."

           Adam shot him a look.

           Meanwhile, Gansey took one look at the balcony, thought, _I could make that jump_ , and leapt off the balcony.

           "Holy _shit_!" shouted Ronan, and Gansey felt a barrier encapsulate him as he rolled into a crouching position, landing safely on the ground. "Maferath's balls, you asshole!" He continued swearing in this manner (Gansey had to bite back laughter) as he and the rest of the party joined Gansey below, where the pride demon laughed cruelly at their assembly, and Gansey didn't really find anything funny anymore.

           Blue cringed as Maura came storming up to them, twenty feet from where the pride demon was still cackling. "Five minutes! I said five minutes, Blue, not a journey to the edges of Thedas!"

           There was a moment of silent eye contact battle, and then Adam cleared his throat quietly.

           "It's, um. It's attacking."

           Both Maura and Blue whirled to look at the pride demon, which had indeed begun attacking. Ronan swore again, his staff in hand and ready to go. Blue's daggers were out in a moment, Adam's staff was already spinning in his hands for an electric attack, the air metallic around him, and as for Gansey...

           Well, he was going to close that hole.

           "Hold your hand up to the rift and imagine it closing!" A small voice, like a child's, called to him from a distance. Rift. That was a good word for it. Gansey did not allow himself to get distracted by this small voice, though he heeded its words. He charged to the middle of the rift and thrust his left palm up toward it, his face turned up towards its toxic-looking green light. He could feel the energy calling, the connection establishing.

 

_Close, close, close..._

 

           Crystals of energy, positioned on the edge of the rift, began to retract as Gansey imagined it pulling together, sewing itself shut. A strange whirring noise accompanied the motion, and then—a sound like a miniature explosion. The pride demon was still there. It wasn't over yet.

           The creature began to descend on Ronan, who was out of mana, and Adam and Blue were busy fighting demons of their own. Gansey gritted his teeth and darted between the monster's legs, sliding the last few feet and whirling around just in time to catch one of its electric whips with his sword, deflecting the other with his shield.

           The currents did not go directly through him, both sword hilt and wooden shield providing metal-less buffers, but Gansey still felt the residual vibrations. They made his teeth grind against each other, and he braced against the ground, squinting. Behind him, Ronan downed a lyrium potion, sparkling blue. It looked as if it tasted disgusting, but his eyes were brighter and he flung the empty glass flask away into the rock wall, where it shattered as he held his staff aloft and cast a paralyzing glyph on the ground.

           "Go, Gansey!" he yelled over the din.

           Gansey gave him a quick nod and sprinted back to the still-active rift, focusing all his attentions on closing it as everyone guarded his back. He felt the familiar protective sensation of shielding magic around him, and when he glanced, Adam gave him a quick nod.

           The creature went down like this: Blue quickly clambered up the strange uneven like pillar and launched herself off it; she landed on the pride demon's back and with both blades, tore open its throat. It felt as if the moment should have been in slow-motion. Those who caught it would have sworn in that moment that Blue Sargent was a tempest, a formidable foe to those who would cross her. It fell forward, and as it did so, she somersaulted forth and came to rest on one knee, knuckles of her opposite hand on the ground, bloody dagger still in her sure grip.

 _What a marvelous creature_ , Gansey thought as the mark again connected to the rift, this time requiring all of his attention as he felt it seal and sort of... tied it off? It was a bit like sewing, he reflected. He had to tie the thread off for it to really take effect.

           Cheers went up around him as everyone realized that the rift had been closed—that they could be closed at all—but Gansey was exhausted. He passed out where he stood, everything cutting out to stark black.


	3. Act 1, Scene 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answering that age-old question: what is to be done with the prisoner who just helped us save a bunch of lives and probably didn't blow everyone up at the Conclave after all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relatively short chapter because the next one will be a monster chapter :|
> 
> No warnings for this chapter apply, except for the one where there's a disappointing lack of EDM music yet again.

"What do we do with him?" Blue asked, sitting on the war table. Her legs dangled off the sides as she ran a grindstone against the edges of one of her double-sided daggers.

                 Maura stood across from her, arms crossed over her chest. Calla’s hands were on her hips. Persephone stood very primly by the bookshelf next to the war table, hands clasped.

                 "I say put him to use," Calla said. "You saw what he did with that rift."

                 "I agree," Persephone said in her quiet voice. "He can help us."

                 Maura made a "hm" noise. "I don't like this."

                 "No one's asking you to," Calla said snidely.

"But," Maura said, shooting a glare at Calla, "it could be worth a shot."

"I'll send for him when he wakes," Blue said, hopping down from the war table and sheathing her daggers. "You three," she gave them all meaningful glances, "know what to do. The Hinterlands, first. Then we deal with the rest."

Maura pursed her lips. When had her daughter gotten so authoritative? She watched Blue exit the war room, and then turned to her fellow advisors. "She's right. The Hinterlands first—Mother Jimi needs all of the assistance she can get."

Calla watched Blue's retreating figure and cackled. "You raised a firecracker, Maura."

Sighing, Maura placed a marker on the Hinterlands. Persephone just closed her eyes, as if she could see everything that was to come.


	4. Act 1, Scene 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussing plans with dick-dick-dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The monster chapter I promised! Well, maybe not quite a monster. An actual regular-sized chapter, or perhaps what regular-sized chapters should be like.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter aside from slight aggression and some arguments, and a disappointing lack of EDM music.

Gansey woke to a strange ceiling and a pulsing headache. An elf walked into the room at that moment, and dropped their box. Stuttering, the elf fell to their knees. "M-my lord, you're awake!"

              "Please," Gansey said gently, "none of that. It's quite alright."

The elf was scared of him. He could see it in the way they trembled as they got to their feet. "My lord... Maura requests your presence in the war room."

They ran out.

Gansey blinked, confused. He tugged on his clothes and strapped his shield to his back, then sheathed his sword and headed out the door.The sun reflected too bright off all of the snow in this Maker-taken town. It was too cold. Everything seemed stark and staring, because the Divine was dead. 

And he had probably killed Most Holy. The thought that he could possibly kill anyone was so strange and repulsive that he burned with it, as if trying to cleanse himself of it. He didn't think he had killed the Divine, or any of the people at the Conclave. Everything would be so much easier if he just knew what happened. 

"Well, I see you're awake." A woman addressed him, fairly plump and elegant. "How are you feeling?"

Gansey gave her a smile, which was what people were usually looking for from him. "About as well as one could be with that around." He gestured vaguely to the Breach.

The woman smiled back at him. "My name is Neeve." She was dressed in the robes of a Grand Cleric, and Gansey liked that she left her title out of her introduction. 

Something about her felt very trustworthy, and Gansey found himself genuinely smiling now. "I'm Gansey. What brings you here?"

"I have business with the Inquisition."

"Well, that's unexpected."

She laughed gently, and then bid him farewell to go speak to some other interested cleric.

 

Gansey walked into the war room, and was immediately greeted with Calla's snarling face as she shouted at a Chancellor—he didn't quite catch the name. Elk? 

"Whelk? They should be calling you Weak instead!" Calla snapped at the man, who looked as if he had come from a good family, but something had happened to him and he had never really been able to recover from it.

Maura caught Gansey's eye and said, in a clear tone of voice, "That's enough. Chancellor Whelk, with the Divine dead, the Chantry has no power here. Before the Conclave, Most Holy gave us the authority to assemble this Inquisition, and that is what we will do."

"W-with this traitor at its head? Most Holy would not have sanctioned this! No, he needs to be brought to Val Royeaux for a trial immediately."

Calla's gaze could burn snow.

From her position perched on a high stool, posture perfect, Persephone said, "He is the Herald of Andraste." Her gaze must have unnerved Whelk, because he immediately fell silent. "Tell your people that they do not have the central authority to arrest and try the Herald."

Whelk just stumbled out of the room, muttering to himself. Gansey tried not to stare after him, which was made slightly easier by Blue entering the war room and shutting the door behind her.

She made her way to the war table and drove her dagger into the Hinterlands. Gansey did not jump—he was born to more control than that, and his rest had properly equipped him for this kind of control.

Blue looked at him, measuring him up even as she settled her hands on her hips, arms akimbo. "You're going to the Hinterlands first. Mother Jimi is waiting for us." She gave a meaningful glance to each of the three women around the war table. "The fighting's grown worse. And we need horses and weapons. Henry's got some for us over by Redcliffe farms, but we couldn't convince him to give us exactly what we needed." She clapped Gansey on the shoulder; she had to reach up a bit to do it. "That's where you come in, Mister Lord Noble Dick the Third."

"Please don't do that."

Blue measured up his face and then nodded. "Gansey, then. You talked your way out of imprisonment. I think you can talk your way into Henry's good graces."

Him? "I didn't talk my way out of anything," he said evenly. "I just agreed to help."

The rogue gave him a look that said he was a complete idiot. "I can't believe this is the Herald of Andraste. A man."

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," she said casually, removing the dagger from the table and sharpening it. "But there is something wrong with you, apparently."

"Knock it off, Blue," Persephone said.

Gansey suddenly realized. "Wait. The Herald of Andraste?"

All of the women in the room looked at him. Gansey wondered if there was something on his face.

"Yes," Maura said slowly. "That's what some are calling you now. They say you were graced by Andraste. The mark allows you to close rifts, and you were sent by Her to do just that."

"I can't believe it took you this long to realize," Blue muttered.

"I'm sorry," Gansey said politely, "are we going to have a problem? Because I don't appreciate being spoken to like this."

"We are not _going_ to have a problem. We are  having a problem." Blue sheathed her dagger and clasped her hands behind her back. Gansey couldn't help noting that she had... a large presence for someone of her stature? It was as if she was a goddess in a tavern; out of place but still so awe-inspiring. "You will never be seen as a man of the people. You're so posh that I can't see you helping the small—nobody can—and it doesn't sound like you're prepared for what's coming. So let me be clear. You can't fail, Gansey. You took this responsibility and you can't fail."

He took another look at the map. They were a dot on this map. This whole map was a section of Thedas. They were a dot. Gansey looked back at Blue. "Do you think I don't understand the gravity of this situation?"

"Frankly, that's exactly what I think. You certainly aren't acting as if the fate of the world is in your left hand."

He closed his eyes. "That's because it's a bitter pill to swallow, Blue Sargent." Gansey felt her eyes on him, measuring him. When he opened his own, she nodded at him.

"I just wanted to make sure you understood. Well. Your move, my Lord."

He removed a small marker from a box of leaden markers and placed it deliberately on the Hinterlands, which had a giant tear in it. Then Gansey and Blue went to go get Adam and Ronan, and they were off.

 


	5. Act 1, Scene 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interim chapter! You know how once you get in the Hinterlands there are so many quests that you feel like you'll never get out?
> 
> Blue and Adam desperately want out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What fresh hell is this? Three updates in one day? That said:
> 
> Warnings for Ronan's dirty mouth, Gansey's class dynamic insensitivity, and a disappointing lack of terrible EDM music.

At the end of the day, Gansey was tired of mages and templars. Why did they do this? Why did they resort to such senseless violence? Why didn't someone sit them down for peace talks?

              Ah, right. Because the last time someone tried, everyone at that peace talk died. He sighed.

              "Tired already, posh boy?" Blue asked lightly from behind him. Adam flanked his left side, and Ronan his right.

              "Hardly," he replied. They had been helping out in the Hinterlands for what seemed like a million years. It was beginning to get a little monotonous, if Gansey was honest with himself—and he was quite earnest.

              Very quickly, he was learning that this wasn't going to be easy. He had helped every person who had requested it. Every person. It took so long, but he could see he was steadily gaining Blue's approval. He couldn't quite get her to stop calling him "posh boy," but it was a start.

              Adam and Ronan, on the other hand, seemed to approve of him in increments. Ronan complained a lot, but he generally approved of most things Gansey did. He looked like he liked it more when Gansey was a little ruder, a little wilder. Adam was different. Decisions made with good reasoning behind them generally seemed to make him more receptive, as did requesting advice on a particularly difficult decision. He looked like he was strangely cozy with both Blue and Ronan. Gansey wasn't quite sure what was happening there, and it wasn't his business anyway.

              "I think we should go back to Haven," Adam said. He didn't complain, but there were dark circles beneath his eyes. He spent a lot of time studying tomes that they picked up from mage corpses, and stayed up late to practice. Ronan would usually stay up with him, either for company or because he couldn't sleep.

              "I agree," Blue said, with a meaningful glance at Adam. It was a very _I've got your back, fellow lowborn person_ look. Gansey shook his head absentmindedly, clearing it of that foul idea. Since meeting all of the different people who resided in the Hinterlands, he found that he had been expanding his worldview. He had always been _listening_ , it's just that what was being said was not something that could have helped him. Like this. Now he could listen to people who had been hurt by the mage-templar war, who had their fields stripped by people they thought would protect them, who were loath to give up their security. It was a terrible world they lived in, and they could not replace the things they cherished. They had so little.

              He realized that they were silent, and turned around. "Sorry, what?"

              Blue shot him a look. He could feel her disapproval burn hot on his face. "We were discussing going back to Haven, _Herald_. If that's alright with your Worship."

              Too late, he realized she had mistaken that tiny shake of his head for a dismissal. "That's a good idea," he said finally. "We do need to regroup and drop some junk off at the merchant's."

              "You carry too much shit," Ronan muttered. "Why not just sell it back to the merchants here?"

              "They need actual supplies, not junk."

              He thought he could sense approval radiating from all three party members. Slowly, Gansey was getting the hang of this.

              Now if only he could stop getting burned by rage demons.


	6. Act 1, Scene 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gansey learns something pretty wicked about some of his companions--but considerably less than what you will learn about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this makes four, but after this there may be a lull in updates due to school and my own very slow writing habits. 
> 
> No warnings in this chapter besides a disappointing lack of terrible EDM music.

The candles were burning low on his desk when Adam looked up and found Gansey in the space where his door should probably have been—until he remembered that he had left the door open in case Ronan wandered in. It was supposed to be a sign that he could be disturbed, if needed.

             He just didn't really expect it to be Gansey in that space.

             "Herald," he said quietly. "What can I do for you?"

             In the near-silence of night, the dimness of five candles down to their last inch or half inch of wax, Gansey looked worn out. All at once, Adam felt something within him twinge. This was not right.

             He was not meant to look like that.

             "Herald?" Adam echoed. In the next moment, it was clear that it was a trick of the light—Gansey looked fine, well-rested and happy.

             "I just wanted to catch up and see how you were doing," Gansey said.

             "I'm fine," Adam replied. "Was there something else you needed?"

             Gansey pulled up a chair and sat down in it—he made it look like a throne. One could almost think he was the mage here, or else that he possessed a glamour. That just wasn't natural. He shouldn't, by all rights, be able to look like a king in a small, shabby room where the tables and chairs wobbled on uneven legs like it was their occupation.

             "I just wanted to know more about you."

             Oh. Adam had noticed that Gansey had seemed curious about not only his background, but Ronan’s and Blue’s as well. It wasn’t so much a surprise of content as it was a surprise of timing.

             "What do you want to know?" Adam asked with a raised eyebrow.

             Gansey laced his fingers together, leaning forward slightly. "Where are you from?"

             Adam made a notation in the tome he was studying. "My family used to live in Kirkwall."

             The Herald raised his eyebrows. "You're a Marcher too, then!" Clearly, he was glad to find a compatriot. Adam was quietly grateful that he didn't ask about where in Kirkwall Adam's family had lived. The answer was not pretty, nor was the story of how he got here.

             The short version of the tale was that the Knight-Commander had gone absolutely mad and Adam had had to leave for his own safety, as the templars had cracked down on apostates.

             The long narrative was that Adam had joined the Champion's merry band of brothers and helped him while they all still lived in Kirkwall—until Ronan's father was brutally murdered by a blood mage and his mother disappeared. Then his brother Declan joined the templars, and his brother Matthew followed suit, as Ronan had wanted to protect him. Declan had accused Ronan of being a blood mage himself—which was not strictly true, though he did know some blood magic, but he was a spirit healer first and foremost—and everything had, quite literally, blown up in Ronan's face. If "everything" was the chantry.

             Maura had wanted him for the Inquisition, after capturing Adam and interrogating him for hours on end. And despite Adam's fervent wishes that Ronan stay away, that he let Adam lie for him, that stubborn asshole had come for him.

             "We're in this together, Parrish," he'd said, but he hadn't been looking at Adam when he said it. "Fuck if I'm letting them have you."

             It was the nicest thing Ronan had ever said to him.

             Strangely, Gansey reminded him of Ronan. Less sarcasm, more nobility, though Ronan was from a noble family too. Gansey took his bloodline and wore it on his face. Ronan's was tattooed on his back, where no one could see it unless he disrobed.

             Gansey still looked curious, so Adam gave him his attention. He looked as if he was trying to phrase it the right way before he asked, "So what brought you to the Inquisition?"

             "I was taken in for questioning, and then I joined of my own volition."

             "Questioning?"

             Adam winced internally. Externally, he simply dog-eared the page in the tome and shut it. "Have you heard about what happened in Kirkwall?"

             "Vaguely. There was a lot of blood magic, someone blew up a chantry, and the Knight-Commander is now a red lyrium statue?"

             Vaguely was right. Gansey had the bare bones of it. "While I wasn't directly involved, I was involved by association," Adam said mildly. "So they brought me in for questioning."

             "Why would they question you?" It wasn't meant to be offending, just curious. "If you were just involved by association? Who were you associated with?"

             Adam Parrish sighed deeply. "Ronan."

             Gansey looked confused.

             "Ronan Lynch is the Champion of Kirkwall."

             An expression of slow understanding spread across Gansey's face; it was something of an "Aaaah." It appeared that no one had known Ronan's name in relation to the title—Maura had introduced the notion to him, though he had thought it was an isolated incident.

             "So..." Gansey said, "you're friends with the Champion of Kirkwall."

             Adam shrugged, placed his quill back in its space on his desk.

             "You must have so many interesting stories," Gansey said in awe. "The situation in the Hinterlands is probably nothing to you."

             "Well, that giant hole in the sky is the priority," Adam replied.

             Gansey nodded. He looked Adam in the eyes before asking, "Have you ever seen anything quite like it?"

             "No," said Adam truthfully. "Not like that."

             "Something to a lesser extent, then?" The Herald caught his tone—the tone that said he was telling the truth, but not the whole truth. Lies by omission were still lies.

             Time passed. A minute, two. Adam slowly sharpened his quill as he began to explain: Ronan had been asked for a favor by some Carta dwarves, and they had been a bit low on funds. One of the dwarves had had an orb, glowing green and misty. It had frozen time outside of a certain space within the building. It had exploded outwards and left a strange smell of mint and wet forests.

             "So not precisely like the Breach, but it was just as strange."

             "And there's that green color again," Gansey mused, looking at his glowing palm. "Think if I hold this up to my face, I can get a day off?"

             Adam laughed a little. "You could try, though I think Blue would skewer you, even if you were joking."

             The Herald smiled. "Oh well. A man can try, can't he?"


End file.
